


Lollipops and Gumdrops

by Sincerely_Sierra



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Holiday, mentions of past neglect, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: It’s almost Christmas and Mildred and Gwendolyn are out window shopping. There’s a certain rainbow-colored game that catches Mildred’s eye.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Lollipops and Gumdrops

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be posted on Christmas morning, but I woke up Christmas Day at noon with my very first hangover, during which I stumbled around trying to understand where I was, then stepped on my glasses. Fun! 
> 
> I hope you all had/have a happy holiday! Here’s some Christmas fluff from our two favorite lesbians.
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

New York was cold but never dreary in December. Not with the large, blooming tree standing proud in Rockefeller Center. Tourists and locals alike bustled about the city of New York, dragging children whining for a particular toy that may have already been underneath the Christmas tree, maneuvering armfuls of shopping bags from Macy’s and Woolworth’s, all while adjusting the hats and scarves of their children as they hurried along to get them in bed before Saint Nicholas decided they were unworthy of gifts.

Three days before Christmas was quite possibly the busiest, most chaotic day of the year for every department store and post office. Mildred felt as though she may have been swallowed entirely by the crowds and noises surrounding her. The sound of children’s merry laughter, a bell ringing, and parents scolding their younglings nauseated Mildred.

Her and Gwendolyn’s first Christmas together back in the United States landed them in New York City, where they had been living for all of two months, in a quiet, tiny apartment that needed much tending to in its beginning days. For one reason or another, it always needed a repair, large or small. Gwendolyn had a reason for that: it was New York. 

Mildred was just thrilled to be out of the apartment for awhile, window shopping with Gwendolyn. Their small but practical Christmas tree had been erected for nearly three weeks and already had gifts wrapped in postage paper beneath it, so the idea of window shopping was nearly pointless, but the lights and frigid air excited Mildred, although she would not dare admit it. 

“Oh, look, Mildred,” Gwendolyn said as they stopped in front of a large window with a very intricate Christmas display. “How cute.” 

Mildred smiled fondly at the lights and mechanical Santa Claus reading to a young, pink-cheeked child on his lap. There was artificial snow, glistening glitter, and many snow globes in the center of a large train set. Everything about the display was commercialized, but Mildred found it to be quite endearing. She never had the privilege of visiting Santa at Macy’s as a young child. A few of her many placement families took their real children to visit Santa’s lap and tell him of the Raggedy Ann dolls and and teddy bears they wished for. Mildred would be lucky enough to receive an extra pea on her plate. 

“Come on, let’s go inside for a minute and get out of this cold,” Gwendolyn offered, her hand discreetly tugging Mildred’s beneath her coat. “Just for a minute. We don’t have to stay. It’s very cold and I don’t want you getting another ear infection.”

Mildred’s last ear infection was, in fact, so painful that her ears were draining fluid in attempts to regulate themselves. And it was not very fun for either woman when Mildred had spent all night crying and whining with a warm cloth pressed to the side of her head. Mildred sighed and gave into Gwendolyn, fearing another infection, as she’d seemed to be prone to them. 

The large Macy’s sign above Mildred’s head distracted her as Gwendolyn pulled her inside the building. A rush of inviting warmth overcame the women as they were greeted with crowds of people and children rushing around, giggling and chasing each other with toys pulled from the shelves as their parents desperately tried to quiet them down and settle them for impending bedtime. 

“Let’s walk around,” Gwendolyn offered. 

Not having much of a choice, Mildred nodded and followed Gwendolyn around the store. It was so warm and comforting, and although the children were making a mess of things, Mildred did not mind them, even when she tripped over a can of silly putty and did not fall only on account of Gwendolyn’s reflexes catching her. They parted quickly and continued moving around, their eyes drawn to the sparkly decorations and bright lights. 

“I wish I was still a kid,” said Gwendolyn, almost sadly, as they stopped at a toy display. She picked up a slinky. “This looks fun.” 

“It’s for children,” Mildred pointed out. She didn’t understand what was so fun about a piece of bouncing metal. She could’ve made that out of pipe. “Wouldn’t you prefer to look at the jewelry or perfume?”

Gwendolyn’s eyes caught Mildred’s, and they screamed “NO,” and Mildred almost giggled. Gwendolyn seldom wore jewelry and her only perfume was that of Mildred’s when they made contact with each other. Gwendolyn did not care for the trivial things in life, but a slinky was something she would proudly place on their shelves. 

“You didn’t play with toys, did you, darling?” Gwendolyn murmured as she set the slinky down. 

“No. I mean, sometimes I would try to play with the other kids’ toys, but if I got caught. . .” A lump formed in Mildred’s throat. 

Gwendolyn understood, and she so ached to grab Mildred and wrap her up tight and never let her go, but the onlookers would surely throw stones at them, even if it was New York. The fear of anyone hurting Mildred prevented Gwendolyn from taking the woman in her arms and laying a loving kiss on her. 

“Come on, sweets,” said Gwendolyn as she looked around themselves and found a clear coast, for the moment. She grabbed Mildred’s hand and gave it a careful squeeze. “Let’s look around for awhile. You can pick out something you like.” 

Gwendolyn walked Mildred and led her through the store, around displays and many departments. She would frequently stop at a shelf or display and ask Mildred if she liked anything there, and Mildred always shook her head without so much as a word. Mildred did not want anything. Nothing piqued her interest. Not those tinker toys, dolls, socks, or sweaters. What a silly holiday this was. 

Mildred became more anxious as the night creeped on. Parents began collecting their screaming hellions and buying the items they struggled to hobble over to the register holding. The nurse could not fathom how much money was spent on useless toys and clothes each year for the average nuclear American family. She had no toys and seldom clothes and did just fine. 

“Look at this, darling,” Gwendolyn said as she picked up a Monopoly game. “I remember playing this with my sister and parents when I was a kid. It’s been so long since I’ve played. It looks much different now.” 

“What’s Mon. . .Monop. . .” 

Noting Mildred’s frustration, Gwendolyn softly pronounced it with enough enunciation that didn’t make Mildred feel like an uneducated idiot, although her foster parents had frequently told her she was, as if she had any time for schooling between bouncing from home to home and being a human puppet. 

“Monopoly,” Gwendolyn repeated. “It’s a trading game where you can buy and sell little properties. It’s quite fun and teaches the value of money.” 

“Sounds too complicated for children, even smart ones,” muttered Mildred. “What would children know about property values?” 

“It’s for older children, but it’s watered down enough for children to understand. The rules are very simple.”

Mildred certainly hoped Gwendolyn did not intend on reliving her childhood by buying that game and convincing her to play—or attempt to play, if she could understand the instructions at all. Mildred had been shamed for her lack of education and stunted fifth grade reading level almost her entire life, and although Gwendolyn had assured her that all those flaws and setbacks meant nothing to her, Mildred could not afford to be humiliated again, especially by a board game.

While Gwendolyn browsed around in the throes of her childhood, Mildred wandered about the board games. Something bright and colorful caught her eye, and she discovered a box with a rainbow trail and two little children skipping happily along it, surrounded by various sweets and treats. Mildred’s eyes dilated with a hidden excitement as she reached up to grab the box.

“Candy Land,” Mildred murmured. She had no problems pronouncing those words. 

Gwendolyn rounded the corner, ready to collect Mildred so they could head home in the snow and Gwendolyn could brew them tea and snuggle up on their small but cozy sofa while watching It’s a Wonderful Life on their extremely worn television set. But as Gwendolyn found her love admiring the Candy Land box with a small smile on her lips, she could not resist observing and watching as Mildred read the back of it, her eyes twinkling with joy. Her fingers ran across the print of the children and candy, as if she were imagining herself in a candy field, rushing to a candy palace. 

“You found Candy Land,” Gwendolyn said, causing Mildred to jump. “Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I was just—I thought—“ Mildred stammered, unsure of just how dim-witted she looked standing there, in the middle of a busy Macy’s, with a toy in her hand. 

“Do you want it?” Gwendolyn asked. “We can play tonight, if you’d like. You don’t have to wait until Christmas. I can make us tea and we can play all night long.”

“No. No,” Mildred insisted, replacing the game on the shelf. Her eyes saddened a bit, and Gwendolyn noticed very well. “It’s a child’s game. We’re too old for that.” 

“I disagree, but if you don’t want it. . .” Gwendolyn trailed off, almost teasingly. 

Gwendolyn’s eyes were hopeful. Why couldn’t Mildred just let her guard down for once? Of course, Gwendolyn understood her shield very much, and so she did not push Mildred when Mildred urgently tugged her along, out of the games section, though Gwendolyn caught the glance Mildred sent to the Candy Land game she’d abandoned. 

They kept walking, for what seemed like an eternity. Macy’s was large and somewhat a maze. Each and every turn presented something new, leaving nothing to the imagination, and Mildred became woozy. The billionth turn was meant for the exit, but instead they happened upon what looked like Santa’s workshop. There was fake snow that looked like asbestos and people dressed in elf costumes—quite frightening, to say the least. In the middle of the aisle was a large velvety chair with a rosy-cheeked, bearded man sitting atop it holding a little girl on his knee. 

Mildred watched on with wonder. Santa Claus was not real; why would they lead these simpleminded children to believe otherwise? She’d known from a young age that Santa was something made up by parents to coerce and bully their children into behaving or else they would wake to coal and dirt in their stocking, which Mildred had frequently received.

“What is this place?” Mildred wondered aloud, her eyes clouding as the child hopped off Santa’s satin red lap and received a candy cane from the friendly elf. Santa offered up his lap to the next child, another girl, wearing a pretty green and red dress with white stockings. Her eyes were wide as the man with the bag lifted her up, and Mildred felt a tug of dread. 

“Santaland,” Gwendolyn said. “My parents would bring me to Macy’s each year to tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas. It was magical.”

“Santa’s not real,” Mildred whispered, out of earshot of the shrieking children. 

Gwendolyn frowned at Mildred’s cynics. “He can be, if you want. They’re just children.”

Although floored by the idea of a man dressed in a Santa suit to please young, bumbling children, Mildred could not take her eyes off of him. He was chubby and jolly and oh-so frumpy in all the right places, just like she’d seen him on the Coca-Cola bottles. His voice, deep and raspy like he’d been smoking ten packs a day, sent Mildred reeling. Maybe Santa was real after all and those people lied to her yet again. 

“Did you ever get what you asked him for?” Mildred questioned Gwendolyn. 

“Most of the time, because I also told my parents,” Gwendolyn chuckled. “By the time I was ten, I knew that Santa was not real, but it was nice to sit on his lap and pretend he was, just for a moment.”

“What was your favorite thing you got?” asked Mildred, her eyes not leaving the little girl, who was giggling and babbling on to Santa about her childlike wonders and wants. 

“I had always wanted a Raggedy Ann doll. I was always so endeared by them and their hair. And the one year I asked Santa for one, I got it, and I kept it for twenty years before I lost it in a move,” Gwendolyn said. Her eyes seemed remorseful at the memory of losing her doll, and for a brief second, Mildred could see child Gwendolyn, and it was magical. 

They stood there, watching, until the little girl was done blabbering about a dollhouse or a pony or whatever. Perhaps those things were too invested in gender roles, and perhaps the little girl had asked for a fire truck or a science kit. Mildred would have loved a science kit. If she’d been allowed any toys at all, it would have been a doll with a false bottle and a diaper, or a broom and mop set. 

“Shall we head home?” Gwendolyn asked. “It’s going to get even colder out. Lots of snow tonight.”

“Okay,” Mildred murmured. 

As they prepared to leave the magic of Santa and his elves behind, the little girl who had just been on Santa’s lap and was now superseded by a little boy, approached the couple. Her red curls and freckled nose the size of a button paired well like a Raggedy Ann doll. Her little hand held out a candy cane to Mildred, who anxiously accepted it.

“Merry Christmas,” said the child as a woman grabbed her hand and shyly excused themselves away. 

“Isn’t that sweet?” Gwendolyn gushed. “How cute!” 

Mildred studied the candy cane for what felt like a hundred years, a tiny smile making its way onto her lips, as Gwendolyn discreetly took her hand and began pulling her to the nearest exit. It was beginning to snow, and Mildred could not afford another ear infection. 

The walk to their tiny apartment was long and slippery. Mildred was beginning to stumble and slip in her overly-large boots, and Gwendolyn wrapped a careful arm around her, sending conscious glances behind their backs. The crowds were alleviating as the night grew colder and whiter. Gwendolyn hoped no one could make out two women holding each other by the waist, even if they were in New York; New York was not a protective barrier, and they understood that. 

Mildred sneezed. Gwendolyn hugged her closer, trying to warm her with the hand gripping her waist. Neither woman could afford another illness, especially at Christmastime, because Mildred. . .well, Mildred could be quite insufferable when she wasn’t feeling herself, and she knew it to be true. 

“Let’s get you warmed up, hm?” Gwendolyn offered as they climbed the steps to the apartment building. 

Mildred was dead on her feet when Gwendolyn unlocked the door. They were greeted with a soft blanket of heat and their tiny Christmas tree they had picked up from a tree farm a few days prior, strung with lights and tinsel—not much tinsel, because Mildred had too much fun throwing it at Gwendolyn rather than decorating the tree with it. 

Mildred was shivering and shrugging her coat off, a good chunk of snow falling to the floor with it. Gwendolyn began to fuss over her, removing Mildred’s damp scarf and hat and throwing them aside as she pulled her to the radiator and sat on the sofa next to it. Almost immediately, Mildred sank into Gwendolyn’s chest and brought her legs atop the sofa, kicking her boots off. 

“Oh, darling,” Gwendolyn cooed as she rubbed Mildred’s head, her fingers rifling through the strands of hair. “You’re so cold.”

“Mm. Not anymore,” said Mildred, her hands rubbing everywhere they could reach. “You’re warm.”

Red and white stripes caught Gwendolyn’s eye. Mildred was holding the candy cane the child had given her at Macy’s. She was clutching it like it were her precious child, and Gwendolyn asked if she would share it with her, next to the Christmas tree, like she had always dreamed of doing with Mildred. Mildred’s eyes twinkled with a certain childlike gleam, and she broke the candy in half—or whatever half was in a candy cane—and offered the curved piece to Gwendolyn. 

With the cane in her mouth like a cigarette, Mildred allowed her eyes to flutter closed, exhausted from both the insanity at Macy’s and the scurry back home to avoid the impending snow. She felt herself melt like butter on a hot plate into Gwendolyn’s body, becoming one. 

Gwendolyn knew Mildred’s silence too well. She knew Mildred was overwhelmed and overstimulated by the noises and the children, and she made certain that tonight would be as painless and easy-going as possible for both herself and for Mildred, who was helplessly snuggled against her, needing Gwendolyn to nourish and comfort her. 

Some would call Mildred incessantly needy; needy of touch, needy of validation, needy of comfort. But Gwendolyn didn’t mind. She never minded. Encompassing Mildred’s need for love in everything they did made it much more special, and somewhat easier. 

They slept there and, although sure to awaken with sore backs, all was silent.

—

Christmas Eve was uneventful. Gwendolyn had made a promise to Mildred to open their gifts that night and leave Trevor and Andrew’s aside for Christmas Day. Mildred never understood Christmas very well; what was so endearing about wasting money to show someone how much you loved them? 

But Gwendolyn loved Christmas, and thus Mildred participated, because Gwendolyn’s joy was perhaps the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Christmas Eve was filled with dancing around the living room in fuzzy socks to Christmas music playing in the background while sugar cookies filled the air with a sweetness Mildred was drooling over.

After their millionth dance to the same old Christmas carol, the pair found themselves spent on the sofa, and as Mildred stopped laughing and tilted her neck up to the window, she found the sky a luminous purple. The sun was going down, and her cheeky smile sent Gwendolyn in a spiral towards the unknown. What could Mildred possibly be thinking?

“You said when it got dark, we could open our gifts,” said Mildred. “It’s dark.”

Gwendolyn chuckled. “I meant later, silly. It’s only six. Not even. My family and I would stay up all hours, until midnight, and then we would sit by the tree and exchange gifts for awhile, drinking hot cocoa and making silly faces at each other.” 

Although the tradition of a midnight Christmas gift exchange was fresh in Gwendolyn’s mind, she was aware that Mildred struggled to stay awake beyond ten, because her sleep schedule was strict and she felt anxious if she did not follow it precisely, and so she felt kindly enough in her heart to compromise with the woman, offering to wait just until eight to open gifts, to which Mildred grinned and nestled her head in the crook of Gwendolyn’s neck.

“When are Trevor and Andrew coming?” asked Mildred as Gwendolyn kissed the side of her head. 

“They’re flying in tonight but won’t be in until way past your bedtime, so I asked Trevor if he would like to wait to come until tomorrow afternoon so they can get some rest,” Gwendolyn said. “They’ll be here around three or so. Trevor offered to help with dinner. I couldn’t refuse. And Andrew makes the best figgy pudding, so Trevor says.”

Mildred’s nose wrinkled, and Gwendolyn let a laugh bubble from her throat. Figgy pudding was not a staple in their holiday, but it would not hurt either of them to give it a try for Trevor and Andrew’s sake. Mildred promised herself to shovel it down. 

“You want to open a present, don’t you?” Gwendolyn asked, wryly and dry. 

Mildred was bouncing in her seat. Of course she wanted to open something! Suspense was horrible and should have been a form of illegal torture. A blush crept up on her neck as she nodded shyly. Gwendolyn chuckled and kissed her forehead, her thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

“Alright. Pick one,” Gwendolyn said, urging Mildred to the tree. 

Oh, what a tough decision it was. Did she want the red clothes box, the silver bag, or the gold box-shaped present? She found herself reaching for the gold, and Gwendolyn’s eyes nearly lit up with glee brighter than the Christmas lights as Mildred carried it back to the sofa. 

Gwendolyn watched with wry in her eyes as Mildred gingerly shook the box to her ear. Something rattled. She took gentle care in tearing the paper little by little, almost as if teasing Gwendolyn on purpose for the sake of her own enjoyment. 

“Oh,” Mildred breathed, procuring a bright, familiar box from the shiny paper. “Candy Land.”

“I knew how much you wanted it, but you seemed embarrassed,” Gwendolyn said. “We can play for awhile, until it’s time to open the rest of the gifts.” 

Tears prickled Mildred’s eyes. She didn’t quite understand what exactly she was feeling, but she wanted so desperately to cry and blubber like a wounded child. Gwendolyn noticed her flood of emotions, and brought her into her lap and began to fuss.

“What’s wrong, darling? What is it?” Gwendolyn asked softly, touching around Mildred’s face and bodice. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just. . .” Mildred sobbed. “When I was little, I never could have anything like this. On Christmas, the families that did have money to spare for gifts would buy their real kids things, and I would sit and watch. Sometimes the kids would even tell me that I didn’t get anything because I wasn’t actually their family, they just used the government money they received for taking care of me to buy those things. I never got to do anything fun like this.”

Mildred felt herself collapse into Gwendolyn, and Gwendolyn held her, rocking her, until she somehow managed to soothe herself some minutes later. Her sobs dissolved into helpless whimpers, and god, was Gwendolyn angry. Despite not wanting to feel so woeful on a holiday, Gwendolyn felt as though she should be doing more for Mildred, perhaps trying to find her therapy that did not involve the prefix “hydro.” For goodness sake, Mildred saw a Candy Land box and had a breakdown! 

Nevertheless, Gwendolyn held and quieted her dear, sweet Mildred with a gentle back rub and little kisses. And when Mildred came up for air, her face was splotchy, her hair a wild mess, and her cheeks burned bright. She hid her face once more, almost ashamed of her reaction. 

“I’m sorry,” Mildred hiccuped. “I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t make today miserable.”

“You don’t, sweetheart,” said Gwendolyn. “I’m so happy that you can experience these things now, darling. Now dry your tears.” 

Mildred sniffled and whined for the last time, burying herself into Gwendolyn’s chest as she hugged the box to her own. Gwendolyn cooed nothings at her until she felt Mildred calm herself a bit, and she wiped the remaining tears away as Mildred sat up in her lap. 

“Can we play?” Mildred asked, almost too small and feeble. 

“Of course, darling,” Gwendolyn assured. “Let me get the cookies out of the oven first. Why don’t you set it up on the coffee table.”

Gwendolyn lifted Mildred off her lap and sat her down on their burgundy rug, going over to the kitchenette to take the cookies from the oven. Mildred opened the Candy Land box and spilled the pieces out onto the espresso coffee table. Four brightly colored game pieces came tumbling out, and Mildred was instantly drawn to the red piece. 

She read the instruction booklet to the best of her ability, finding it to be just as simple as Gwendolyn had said it was. As Gwendolyn placed a baking sheet of cookies onto the cooling rack, Mildred peeked over the corner. 

“What color do you want?” Mildred asked.

“Any color is fine with me,” said Gwendolyn. “Whatever you think works best.”

“Yellow,” Mildred replied. “Red and yellow make orange.” 

Gwendolyn chuckled. She listened to Mildred sort the game pieces while she turned off the stove and dimmed the kitchen lights, and she moved back to their small living area, finding Mildred with the board set up, red and yellow pawns next to each other at the starting line. There was something so iridescent about Mildred shuffling the cards. The way her hair shone with the Christmas lights and how her ring shimmered beneath a rust-colored lamp gave her a bit of an angelic glow. 

“Youngest player goes first,” Gwendolyn said. “That would be you.” 

Mildred pulled her first card, finding two hearts. She slid her red pawn to the hearts, and Gwendolyn drew a card. A smile pulled at her lips as she moved her pawn one space above Mildred’s, two orange squares. Mildred quickly became flustered and drew a card. This time, it was her turn to give Gwendolyn a mischievous smirk as the card took her all the way to the gumdrops in the middle of the board.

“Not so fast, Mildred,” Gwendolyn said, wryly. “You can go backwards, too. And get stuck.”

“Stuck?” Mildred repeated.

Chuckling, Gwendolyn drew her card and moved up two red spaces. Mildred pulled another and moved hers to a space with a dot. A triumphant laugh left Gwendolyn’s throat. 

“You’re stuck!” Gwendolyn announced. 

Mildred’s pout was absolutely precious, and Gwendolyn stroked her cheek with her thumb. Despite being stuck in the land of gumdrops, Mildred managed to grin with joy; Gwendolyn was being so kind and patient, and even when she was teasing and poking fun at how angry Mildred would become when frustrated, Mildred found the humor and discovered a way to smile. 

“Your turn,” Mildred said. “You’ll get stuck.” 

Gwendolyn didn’t get stuck. She moved along just fine. But after several moves and a string of beginner’s luck, Mildred won the round, and she placed a sloppy, teasing kiss to Gwendolyn’s cheek. 

“I won,” said Mildred, wryly. 

“So you did.” 

—

It was half past one, the night before Christmas. Not a creature was stirring, not even Mildred, who was always a bit restless in the winter. She slept soundly, snuggled in bed, while Gwendolyn peeked out of their bedroom and gave a thumbs up to the man in the red suit, then pressed her finger to her lips. 

“Quiet,” Gwendolyn whispered. “I’ll wake her.” 

Gwendolyn tiptoed to the bed and gently removed Mildred’s covers, and Mildred shifted uncomfortably and blindly reached for her blanket. Her eyes opened upon discovering they were gone, and a flash of confusion left her face as she looked at the alarm clock. Her throat was dry and scratchy. 

“Gwen? It’s not morning yet,” yawned Mildred. “What’s wrong?”

“Quiet, darling,” Gwendolyn shushed as she helped Mildred stand up. “There’s someone here, but you have to be quiet.”

“Why? Who’s here? Should I call—“

“No, no, darling. Just come with me, okay?” Gwendolyn cooed as her arm found its way around Mildred’s waist. 

They padded to the living room, and Mildred’s eyes widened upon finding a man in all red, with a hat atop his head, and boots the color of coal, kneeling before their Christmas tree and littering the gold tree skirt with a few gifts. Santa was not real; how could this be? He was merely a story to keep children quiet and well-behaved. 

Mildred couldn’t believe her eyes. Surely she was dreaming, or having a nightmare, or she’d been drugged, because this was simply beyond any realm of possibility. Gwendolyn stole glances at her dear Mildred, watching as her expression changed with each gift placed beneath the rainbow glow of lights. 

Santa placed one last gift on the skirt and began to stand, his lanky shadow slightly ominous in the yellow light. Gwendolyn quickly pulled Mildred into their bedroom and closed the door. Mildred frowned and reached for the knob, urging Gwendolyn to move, but she wouldn’t, instead finding it easier to steer Mildred back to bed, where she laid in confusion and worry. 

“See, darling? He’s real if you just believe he is,” Gwendolyn said, kissing her forehead. “Goodnight.”

Mildred drifted off without another word or protest. Gwendolyn sighed in relief and stroked her hair, leaving a faint kiss on her lips. 

—

When Trevor and Andrew arrived the next afternoon, they were greeted with hugs and kisses from both women. Andrew held a plate of figgy pudding, to which Mildred accepted with a forced smile and a thank you, and Gwendolyn pulled Trevor to the side while Mildred discussed who knew what with Andrew while hastily slicing the figgy pudding.

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn whispered to Trevor. “She was a little confused this morning, thinking she made it all up, but I think she truly believes in Santa now. Thank you for giving that to her.” 

“Oh, I wish I could have seen the look in her eyes. I bet it was just wonderful to watch her light up,” Trevor said as he rubbed Gwendolyn shoulders. “She’s a special little one, a delight, indeed.”

Gwendolyn chuckled and found Mildred chasing Andrew’s tail by pretending to fall in love with the figgy pudding. The man seemed enthralled and enthused by Mildred’s overreacting, and he chuckled as she gagged into the sink, patting her back and moving her hair aside as she heaved up whatever she could muster from the depths of her stomach. 

“Honestly?” Trevor said to Gwendolyn. “I don’t too much care for it, either. I can’t blame her.” 

Gwendolyn sighed, a smile on her lips, and she stared at Trevor, finally coming to terms with how their lavender marriage had worked so well; they had great chemistry, but not the kind of chemistry couples had. It was a chemistry between two consenting people who would go to the ends of the earth for one another, just as Trevor had snuck into the apartment on a frigid Christmas Eve, dressed as Santa, and delivered gifts for the sake of brightening Mildred’s holiday. He had been exhausted, but he made no qualms about doing such, if it made Mildred just a bit cheerier, and that she was. 

“Thank you, for everything,” Gwendolyn said.

“When I said anything, I meant anything, and I promise you that,” replied Trevor. “I’m just happy that we are both in relationships we deserve and have wanted for so long for. You seem so happy with her, and I could ask for nothing more.” 

“Trevor, Andrew is lucky to have you. You landed here wearing a Santa suit and dragged a sack of gifts up the three flights of stairs in the middle of the night. All for us.” 

“I couldn’t say no.” Trevor brushed Gwendolyn’s hair from her face. “I’ve missed you. You’ve been hopping around so much that it’s hard to track you down sometimes.”

What a rush of relief that brought Gwendolyn. No, she was not relieved that Trevor and Andrew could not trace them at times, but this was certainly good news for Mildred, who’d spent many nights recovering from nightmares of her brother locating them and wreaking havoc on their lives. 

“My dear, what are you running from?” Trevor questioned. 

“Nothing, I promise. We just enjoy traveling,” Gwendolyn replied, meeting Trevor’s eyes. “I want her to have a life that isn’t burdened by sitting in one place for too long. She deserves to see things.” 

Trevor almost didn’t believe her, but for the sake of the holiday, he kissed her forehead and made his way to the kitchenette to help Andrew with the goodies they had packed. 

Mildred wrapped her arms around Gwendolyn and laid her head on her chest, allowing herself to melt like ice cream on a hot summer day. They watched in awe as Trevor and Andrew began making dinner in harmony, and as they did so, Mildred could feel herself relax further into the atmosphere. 

Gwendolyn kissed the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Merry Christmas.”


End file.
